


The Morning On Your Skin

by auroreanrave



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: Mason wakes up after the office Christmas party naked, with a mild hangover, and Scott McCall's arm around his waist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just some 'both work at the office and get drunk and maybe makeout a bit after the office Christmas party and wake up together' AU for my two favourite sunshiney babes.
> 
> Title comes from the very apt, "Between the Sheets" by Imogen Heap.

Mason wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, head pounding a little, and mind unable to remember how he got there. He remembers movement and kissing and laughing (maybe not in that order, maybe so) and then waking up in indecently soft sheets, with someone's arm around his waist.

All in all, not the worst ever way to wake up.

Mason inches around a little, stretching what he can without disturbing the warm, heavy presence on his hip.

"Morning," the presence behind him says in a yawn, and Mason knows that voice instantly.

Scott McCall. Scott. McCall.

As in The Beacon's receptionist Scott McCall.

Oh, crap.

Mason's had a thing for Scott ever since Scott started working at The Beacon, a little tech conglomerate in the making that specialises in must-have apps for college students (Mason helped deliver the voice-commanded panic button that works even if the phone is off or out of battery). Scott is their receptionist while he works his way through veterinary college and has a smile like sunshine and an ass sculped by angels themselves. Mason knows, he's stared long enough at it.

Because Mason had no sense of self-preservation, or was a bit of a masochist, or was in fact, a decent person, he befriended Scott, giving him help whenever the servers went down or helping him navigate the trickier partners (Peter Hale, predatory and lecherous, was high on Mason's bullet-pointed list).

In turn, Scott had introduced Mason to his own circle of friends - Lydia, a genius with the body of a catalogue model who was working her way through her PhD, Allison, an Olympic hopeful regional archery champion, and Stiles, a rambling, sparky, bright kid with a Masters under his belt and working in the local police department. Mason had in turn introduced them to Liam, Hayden, Kira, Josh, and Tracy, and they had become a sort-of large group by accident.

Mason's crush hadn't wilted however - it had bloomed under Scott's sweet smiles, his little gifts of coffee in the morning just for Mason, and his dorky Christmas cards of dogs that made Mason smile. It was just so hard, damnit. It wasn't fair.

Except now, of course, he had Scott's arm tucked around his waist, and as Mason slowly moved to his other side, he could see Scott was smiling and disarrayed, hair a lumpy mess.

"Morning," Mason manages. He doesn't need to peek beneath the sheets to see that they're both in a nude state. "Did we - uh - did we - ?"

"I don't think so," Scott says, "we were both super drunk and I think we just made out and got naked and then fell asleep. Works for me, I'd rather be sober."

"That's embarrassing," Mason says, flopping back against the pillows a little. He looks around the room. "Where the sweet hell are we?"

"The Sweetfriar Hotel, apparently," Scott says, pointing out a room service menu with the name embossed in pink curling writing. "It's not too far from the Christmas party venue last night."

"Okay." Mason tries to ignore Scott's hand moving to his forearm. "So... I mean. What now?"

"My hangover's actually fair okay," Scott says, "and I think I could do with some room service breakfast. My treat."

"Yeah, sure, I mean," Mason says, his head spinning like a tilt-a-whirl, until it locks onto something. "What did you mean you'd rahter be sober?"

Scott has the goddamn audacity to blush and look down into his sheet-covered lap. "I, uh... I kinda thought that I should have kissed you when I was sober. I wanted to remember it properly."

"Seriously?" Mason says, and Scott's face drops like he's messed everything up. Mason can't handle him feeling that way, even for another second, and he turns to Scott. "No, no, dude, no, I didn't..."

He cups Scott's face in his hands, Scott's warm, soft, beautiful face. "I've liked you. Okay, for a while. I'm glad I got kiss you, even while we were both a bit drunk. I don't regret it for a second."

Scott must believe him because he smiles and leans forward, pressing his lips to Mason's. They both have terrible morning breath, but Mason kisses Scott like his life depends on it. It's the fulfillment of months of want and friendship and smiles, and it feels wonderful.

Once they've kissed for what seems like a lifetime, they crowd together on the mass of pillows, lazily touching. "I'm serious though. What now?" Mason asks, because he can't help it, even though his heart is light and warm.

Scott is silent for a moment, and then smiles. "We've still got the room for the next four hours." His smile glows in the light of the early morning.

Mason's answer is a beam of a grin, and then he's attacking Scott with a kiss, and tugging them both firmly underneath the sheets.


End file.
